


Old Habits Die Hard

by cheesybadgers



Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst, Biting, Canon-Typical Violence, Complicated Relationships, Frottage, Frotting, M/M, Mutual Masturbation (sort of), Mutual Pining, Power Dynamics, Slight hint of an authority kink, Smoking, Swearing, mild head injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 04:22:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29786388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesybadgers/pseuds/cheesybadgers
Summary: Set during the events of Explosivos (season 1, ep 6), Javier and Horacio (who for the purposes of this fic, isn’t married) are sent on a mission to bring down Gacha. A close call results in an injured Horacio and Javier is forced into a decision he wasn’t expecting to make, all of which raises questions about the nature of their complicated relationship. Involves lots of confessions in the dark, eventually leading to smut.
Relationships: Horacio Carrillo/Javier Peña
Comments: 21
Kudos: 23





	1. Confessions In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not sure what happened to me during my last Narcos re-watch a couple of months ago, but I came away with an abundance of feelings about these two, particularly stemming from this episode. I’ve got most of the next chapter done, but am not quite sure if I want to take the story further than that yet. I’m not the quickest of writers and this is the first multi-chapter fic I’ve done, so I’ll see how it goes!

Javier realised something was wrong when he received the transmission on the chopper. Carrillo was usually the reliable voice of calm, like a steady ship on the water, even when under extreme pressure. This time, he sounded panicked, shaken and desperate.

Not having a visual on his condition only added to the rising nausea in the pit of Javier’s stomach, as multiple catastrophic scenarios immediately sprung to mind. All he could do was follow Carrillo’s instructions on Gacha’s whereabouts and use everything at his disposal to make sure they caught him, one way or another. The rest would have to wait until he was on the ground.

“It’s your call,” he heard Carrillo say over the radio.

It was as though time slowed down after those words were spoken. He only had a few seconds at most to decide, yet it felt like several years’ worth of shared history and mutual understandings flashed through his mind all at once. Carrillo’s words so often echoed around Javier’s head as he weighed up his options, so he should have been expecting it. In fact, he could have kicked himself for being so surprised at a routine that had become all too predictable. It always came back to him somehow and had done for longer than he’d care to admit.

Yet he was still taken aback when the words “Give him lead” left his mouth.

A torrent of gunfire and a shower of bullets rained down from the chopper. Just three small words was all it had taken. He supposed this was what it was always like for Carrillo. Javier couldn’t imagine getting used to it in the way that he apparently had. He didn’t want to imagine becoming that blasé about it, either, but this wasn’t his country and this wasn’t his war. At that realisation, he couldn’t help but question why he was even here in the first place. He suddenly felt like an imposter, as though he was intruding on a private grievance that he had no business witnessing, let alone being an active participant. It wasn’t until they landed that he abruptly came to, remembering the cause of the nausea that had now fully taken hold of him. Horacio.

Javier exited the helicopter as quickly as possible, making his way over to the small crowd that had now gathered on the main road. It wasn’t long before he had sight of his own handiwork. A coil of emotions twisted inside of him as he surveyed the lifeless, crimson form below him. His instincts told him to look away, but he forced his eyes to take in what he’d set in motion.

As he was staring down at the ground, a familiar, soothing presence appeared next to him. He didn’t need to look up to know who it was, but he did need to make sure he was okay. Yet, Horacio was the one now asking _him_ if _he_ was okay, despite the prominent smear of blood streaked down the left side of his face. He looked a mess. Javier scrambled to reassure himself, noting that he otherwise seemed to be holding up well. He was, after all, conscious, walking and talking, which sent waves of instant relief and warmth flooding through his body.

“I’ll sleep tonight,” he found himself saying, unsure if he meant more for hearing the calmness return to Horacio’s voice than the success of their mission. “What about you? Have you had that seen to?” He couldn’t help but at least enquire. He had to make sure.

“I’ll be fine, but I will get it checked out…just to shut you up,” Horacio responded, the vague curve of a smile pulling at one side of his mouth that no one other than Javier would ever have picked up on.

A part of Javier had the urge to wrap himself around him right there and then, before sliding his hand underneath his shirt to feel his heart beating against his palm. He wanted to rest his head on his chest and feel it steadily rise and fall beneath him. Anything to convince himself once and for all that Horacio was alive and well. Instead, his fingers tapped nervously against the aviators he was clutching in his right hand, almost as though he was silently talking himself out of initiating even the smallest amount of physical contact. 

Eventually, he settled for a firm slap on the shoulder. A display of nothing more than workplace camaraderie to the casual observer, because of course nobody noticed the way Javier initially hesitated, wondering if even this was overstepping boundaries; or the way that once he’d committed to it, he allowed his fingers to momentarily drag along the fabric of Horacio’s uniform. A subtle gesture undetected by onlookers, but not missed by Horacio. He felt his touch linger long after Javier walked away. 

* * *

A short while later, Horacio found himself reclining on a stretcher in the medical wing of the military base they were stationed at for this operation. He felt better for finally taking the weight off his feet, although his head was woozy – possibly from the strong pain relief he’d just been given as much as from the injury itself - and his ears were still ringing from the blast. 

His memory of the incident was fuzzy. One minute he’d had sight of Gacha’s hideout and had been preparing his aim, the next he was flat on his back; his vision blurred and white noise filling his ears, along with the distant sound of gunfire and shouting. He was aware he’d been hit; his head felt hot and wet, but he didn’t immediately make the connection until he lifted his fingers to his temple. At least he was alive, though.

The familiar sound of Trujillo’s concerned voice somewhere to his right pulled him back into the moment and he knew he didn’t have time to indulge himself further, at least not for now. Gacha. The fucker was escaping and there was no way he was letting that happen. Not on his watch.

He quickly asked for a radio to be brought to him. He needed to speak to the one person he trusted to end this when he couldn’t. He couldn’t remember exactly what he’d said to Javier, but he knew he’d all but pleaded with him multiple times. Adrenaline had kicked in and his single, driving thought had been _Stop him._ He needed to make Javier understand that failure wasn’t an option. He was vaguely aware of Javier’s voice through the airwaves and although trying to focus on each word was a struggle, just hearing him on the other end of the radio was an unexpected comfort.

Horacio had left the ball in Javier’s court as to Gacha’s fate. He had to let it be his decision, even if it ended up being a decision he couldn’t support. He’d hoped his own words back in Cartagena had struck a chord, but he knew he couldn’t make the call for him. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small knot of guilt began to form as he recalled their conversation. It wasn’t the first time it had played out like this and the knot pulled tighter as he accepted it wouldn’t be the last. That’s not to say he wasn’t being genuine in his argument, because he was too principled a man and he respected Javier too much to resort to lying to get his own way. But he forced himself to acknowledge that he probably had pushed passed the boundary of mere suggestion with the way he’d left things that day. Neither could he pretend he wasn’t aware of the persuasive power he so often had over Javier. Until recently, it had never gone this far, on either man’s part. Which is why he was as surprised as Javier upon hearing his final three words over the radio.

His entire body had slumped forwards in overwhelming relief, despite his misgivings. So much had rested on this op, not least of all the future of Search Bloc and it had been a success, largely thanks to Javier.

In the present, a tightness tugged at his chest and his stomach lurched as if the floor had given way beneath him, as a wave of mixed emotions crashed over him at once. He attempted to control it with deep, steadying breaths, unsure if it was the effects of the head injury, his pain medication, or something else altogether. 

* * *

It was late into the evening by the time they got settled into their temporary accommodation, after Horacio was required to remain under observation in the medical wing for a couple of hours. He had eventually been given the all-clear on the proviso that someone stayed with him overnight to check for signs of concussion. Javier had offered to do it, on account of practically being nocturnal anyway. Plus, he knew Horacio a lot better than he knew any of his men, so it was logical for them to share a room when sleeping space was already limited. At least, that was his official line. Unofficially, he didn’t want to let him out of his sight.

Their quarters were basic, but had all the necessities for a night’s stay. There were two single cots; each resting against a wall, with a small nightstand in the middle, although due to the box-sized dimensions of the room, only a narrow gap stood between the two beds. In the corner, there was a tiny bathroom barely bigger than a cupboard, which contained a sink and toilet.

They both quickly made use of their cots, physical and mental exhaustion beginning to take hold. They lay in silence for a while, too drained for meaningful conversation and Javier only interrupting the quiet to check up on Horacio and offer him cigarettes, food and drink. He had been adamant he wasn’t hungry, but Javier had eventually managed to convince him to eat a small amount of the supplies they’d brought with them, although he felt the heated glare being directed at him for his efforts.

Neither of them succumbed to sleep, even though their bodies and minds were screaming out for it. Instead, they lay in the dark, only the faint traces of light from the outside world edging through the small cracks in the worn window shutters.

The air was heavy with unanswered questions; both men secretly thankful for the comfort and anonymity night brought. Darkness didn’t betray hidden feelings or divulge double meanings behind the looks and gestures that had come to define so much of their relationship. Nor did it attempt to translate the language they had inadvertently built between them that so often felt like theirs and theirs alone.

Conversely, darkness had the habit of lowering inhibitions and acting as a confessional, if you allowed it to. Sometimes, those unanswered questions gnawed away at a person so intently during the day, the twilight hours offered a form of respite that was too tempting to resist.

“Javier?” Horacio asked into the shadows. He assumed Javier would still be awake, going by the unsociable hours he normally kept.

“Hmm?” came Javier’s reply from the other side of the room.

“Why did you do it?”

“Do what?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” Horacio stated, more as an indisputable fact than an accusation.

“It’s what you would have done,” Javier replied, all pretences quickly dropped. 

He knew full well what Horacio was referring to, but he’d hoped they wouldn’t have to have this conversation, at least not now.

“But you’re not me.”

“No, I’m just a gringo with nothing to lose, remember?” Javier snapped back defensively. 

He was already dreading where this might be going, so obviously, it was far easier to raise his shackles and attempt to pick a fight.

Horacio sighed and sat up to lean against the wall behind him, mildly grimacing at the sudden movement. He reached over to the nightstand for his pack of cigarettes and lighter, before swiftly lighting up; the flame momentarily illuminating the weariness that had etched deep into his features after such a long, draining day.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,” Horacio conceded, holding his arm out and offering the opened pack to Javier. 

He had particularly regretted the dig about him having no family here, especially as he was starting to suspect it wasn’t strictly true; in an unconventional, roundabout way, but he parked that thought for now.

“You had a point though,” Javier admitted with a scoff, as he took Horacio up on his peace offering, plucking a cigarette from the pack and placing it between his lips.

Before he could scramble around to locate his own lighter, a small flame appeared in front of his face. 

“Thanks,” Javier mumbled as he leaned forwards.

“I know you’re not like the others. Not like your partner,” Horacio added with a discernible edge of disgruntlement creeping in on his last sentence.

Javier noticed it and was grateful the smirk tugging at his lips couldn’t be seen. Horacio had always given Steve a hard time to say the least, but Javier understood why. They were visitors in his country, after all and they couldn’t pretend to know what it was like for the people of Colombia. Today of all days brought home that this wasn’t really his fight. The longer he remained here and the higher the stakes got, the less sure of his role he was and it was getting harder to deny his motivations now were a world apart from what they’d been when he’d first arrived in Colombia.

“Steve means well, he’s just...naive. Inexperienced. Hasn’t been doing this as long as we have,” Javier offered in defence of his partner.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Carrillo abruptly continued, apparently already keen to change the subject.

It wasn’t that he _disliked_ Murphy per se, but rather what he represented. Not to mention, he was always…there, now. Always following him and Javier round like a loyal puppy, always so desperate to impress and to tag along. He understood the need to feel useful, but it had certainly taken a period of adjustment having someone else around, to explain everything to - especially in his second language – and often have them argue back about things they didn’t and could never understand, because they hadn’t been here and hadn’t seen as many people die as Horacio had. They hadn’t had to attend funeral after funeral, exchange hollow platitudes with those left behind, or make impossible calls they never thought they’d be forced to make.

Then there was learning to accept Javier’s attention was often elsewhere when he’d gotten used to him hanging on his every word. Horacio couldn’t deny there was a dark, hidden part of him that _enjoyed_ the power he held over Javier, that _liked_ having him wrapped around his little finger. He hadn’t set out for it to be that way; it was just how they fell into a natural rhythm with each other and for the most part, it had surprisingly worked. Everything had been so much easier when it was just the two of them, which is why in a twisted, selfish way he was savouring this trip as much as possible. It almost felt like old times, having him all to himself and he’d never been good at sharing.

Javier took a long drag, before exhaling slowly and stalling for time as he considered how best to respond.

“What does it matter why I did it? The fucker’s dead, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“You know it is. But your orders were to take him alive if possible. You said over the radio he was out of bullets,” Carrillo pointed out, in a tone that Javier noted wasn’t a million miles away from the one he used to interrogate suspects.

“Couldn’t risk it in case he had more weapons that weren’t out of bullets. You said do whatever I had to do, so I did,” Javier replied matter-of-factly.

Once again, he was glad to be mostly shrouded in darkness, bar the occasional glowing embers from their cigarettes.

“Right, okay. So, what about the road block?”

Carrillo was like a dog with a bone. Old habits die hard, he supposed. Part of him knew he should probably ease up, but if he didn’t ask now, he’s not sure he ever would.

“The road block?”

“In Cartagena.”

“What about it?”

“You shot him, Javier,” Carrillo reminded him, as though it was an occurrence so mundane and unremarkable, that Javier wouldn’t possibly remember without being prompted.

“Yeah, in the leg. Nothing I haven’t done before and probably nothing I won’t do again if I have to,” Javier clarified.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

Now it was Horacio’s turn to employ delaying tactics. His lips remained tightly pursed around his cigarette as he drew a long breath in, before making a point of slowly expelling the cloud of vapour through his nose. 

He could just about make out Javier’s pupils reflecting in the light from the window, which was now casting half a shadow across his face since he’d sat up on the bed. Even if he hadn’t caught a glimpse, he could sense he was being watched. It was far from the first time he’d felt Javier’s lingering gaze on him. It had become an all too familiar presence over the years; from strategy briefings to stakeouts and raids, or in the dark corner of a smoky bar after-hours when it had just been the two of them and one too many whiskeys.

“You shot a man...because you knew I couldn’t take the risk. And Gacha, you made the call...because I all but asked you to,” Horacio eventually summarised.

“I did what I had to do, that’s all. You were already on thin ice in Cartagena and as for Gacha, like you said…if it had gone wrong, it would have been on my conscience,” Javier repeated, trying to play it down as much as possible. He wasn’t convincing himself, so he was damn sure he wasn’t convincing Horacio, either. 

“You sure about that?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact I am.” Javier knew his voice wasn’t coming out as assured as he hoped it was, his throat constricting as he spoke and his mouth dry.

“So, Gacha isn’t on your conscience now, then?”

“Why would he be? He needed to be stopped,” Javier said, defending his actions to himself as much as to Horacio.

“Javier, I saw the way you were looking down at his body.”

Horacio knew more than most what that felt like, in the beginning anyway, before the numbing effect had set in. He didn’t think about it in the aftermath anymore, couldn’t. He had lost count by this point, on both sides of the war. The only option was to keep going. Another wiretap, another raid, another shootout, another step closer to finally getting his country back from that son of a bitch.

“Did I feel good about it? No. But did it need to be done? Yes. End of story.”

They both knew Javier wasn’t being completely honest with himself, that he couldn’t imitate the kind of ruthlessness that came almost unnervingly naturally to Horacio, but Horacio decided not to push it any further on that front and tried a different line of attack instead.

“That still doesn’t explain why you put yourself on the line, not when you had other options more to your liking,” Horacio pressed further.

“Please, can’t we just drop it already?” Javier pleaded, desperate for this conversation to come to an end before he said something he regretted.

“Not when you’re hiding something from me, Javier.”

There was that tone again; a tone that always managed to cut so sharply and efficiently to the core of Javier in a way no one else had managed before.

Javier sighed, dropping his head into his hand and pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt backed up against a wall with no possible way out as Carrillo’s voice drilled into his chest and sucked the air out of his lungs.

He wasn’t sure if he was suffocating or drowning as he floundered around for words. Not just any words, though, but rather the only words that he knew would save him at this point, no matter how much he didn’t want to give them up.


	2. Point Of No Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the events of chapter 1 and some confessions from both men, things come to a head. Smut and all the feelings ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has interacted with chapter 1 so far, either on Tumblr or AO3! It’s greatly appreciated ❤️ I currently intend to carry the story on beyond the events of Explosivos, but as I’ve said before, I’m not the quickest of writers and don’t want to get burnt out, so please bear with me if there are bigger gaps between chapters!

“I did what I had to do to...to...protect you, okay?” Javier eventually blurted out.

_Shit._ He couldn’t believe how quickly his defences had buckled under Horacio’s questioning. Such a rookie mistake for someone who had conducted his fair share of interrogations over the years. But there was no taking it back now.

“You’ll lose your visa if you carry on like this,” Horacio warned, although his voice much softer now. 

His default inquisitorial tone had shifted into something else he wasn’t altogether comfortable with, but somehow couldn’t help but inhabit when he was around Javier, especially when he was quietly confessing these words to him in the dead of night. Words that couldn’t be spoken in their everyday lives, but somehow felt permitted - and needed - in their current circumstances.

“Maybe, maybe not. But you’re a good leader. You’re what Colombia needs right now…a damn sight more than it needs the likes of me and Murphy. Plus, you’re one of the only cops I can trust round here.” He paused, almost preparing himself for the next sentence he knew was on the tip of his tongue and couldn’t be suppressed now even if he tried. “And I - I don’t fucking know what I’d do without you.”

There it was, the truth laid out more plainly than he’d ever dared to express before now. He wasn’t even sure why he was saying it after all this time, but he meant every word.

Javier’s feelings for Horacio were an unfathomable anomaly, a contradiction, a paradox. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t envious of the way that Horacio was almost unanswerable to anyone. Of course, he had his superiors, but they couldn’t control him, not really. He was a loose cannon whose bloodlust for Escobar couldn’t be reasoned with or contained and woe betide anyone who got in his way. Javier had learnt that one many a time.

Being in close proximity to the eye of such a volatile storm was dizzying and not entirely without irony. After years of being boxed in by bullshit DEA bureaucracy, he had found Horacio liberating and yet, he couldn’t escape the fact he was completely in thrall to him. It was disarming and infuriating, but also thrilling and intriguing in equal measures. He couldn’t stay away from him even if he wanted to. The truth was, Horacio had become such an unshakeable pillar of strength and courage to Javier, he couldn’t imagine surviving Colombia without him.

“I trust you too. More than anyone. But I don’t want you risking your job and your life for me. I can’t speak for Colombia, but...I know I need you here.”

Horacio’s voice was laced with a rare vulnerability that was so far removed from the stern, intimidating Colonel he had to be to the rest of the world, he hardly recognised it as his own.

It wasn’t often he allowed himself to open up like this, couldn’t risk becoming attached when he was on the brutal and bloody frontline of this never-ending war. But Javier had been the exception. He understood what this job entailed and what it did to a person. They’d both crossed lines they never thought they’d have to cross and they didn’t judge each other for it. He’d somehow broken through Horacio’s armour in the process and it was pointless to attempt to deny it anymore.

“You risk your life every fucking day, Horacio. Earlier - you could have - and I wasn’t even there -” Javier stumbled and cut himself off, attempting to swallow down any further revelations that threatened to spill out when he’d already said far too much. 

“Hey come on, I’m fine. It’s just a few stitches. I got off lightly,” Horacio soothed, as much to convince himself as Javier. It had been a close call. Too close. But now wasn’t the time to dwell. “Although, I am due more painkillers,” he admitted with a vague scoff.

“Here, let me help you,” Javier swiftly offered.

He moved off his cot, reluctantly switching on the small lamp that stood between them. He held his breath in case the sudden influx of light broke the spell and snatched away the sacred moment they’d just shared.

Thankfully, the light was dim, barely illuminating objects beyond the nightstand it sat on, but providing just enough coverage for Javier to fetch a fresh glass of water and the box of pain medication from the shelf in the bathroom.

He carried the items over to Horacio’s cot, taking advantage of the extra space made available next to him since he’d sat up.

He passed the water to Horacio, followed by the painkillers. Horacio swallowed them down before handing the empty tumbler back. 

They remained suspended in animation holding the glass between them, as their fingers fleetingly touched; the tips gently dancing over each other for a moment, before Javier placed the glass on the nightstand beside him. But he didn’t move from the cot and he didn’t move his hand away from Horacio’s. 

Instead, he took his hand and lay it flat before delicately tracing the pad of his thumb in circles over Horacio’s palm. Unsurprisingly, he encountered callouses no doubt left over from years of conflict and the burden of his job, but in between the rough skin were hidden smooth, soft patches that Javier’s thumb caressed and cherished like a closely guarded secret only he had uncovered.

Javier’s hand slowly slid up and across Horacio’s wrist, before pausing on his pulse point. He let out a grounding sigh he’d unknowingly been holding on to as he felt the steady beat beneath his fingertips. He gradually moved up to Horacio’s arm, mapping the prominent veins and taut muscles as he journeyed up to his broad shoulder, before coming to rest at the nape of his neck. 

The low light from the lamp reflected in the whites of their searching eyes, as they precariously hovered somewhere between acting on whatever this was and withdrawing from it whilst they still could. 

Javier finally risked movement, leaning forwards to close the gap between them and softly pressing his forehead against Horacio’s. Both men remained still for several seconds, their chests rising and falling and their uneven breaths cutting through the silence. 

“What are we doing?” Horacio whispered, his lips ghosting over Javier’s as he spoke; as though the time for that question had already passed, yet he asked it anyway. Perhaps as a final potential out for either of them before they reached the point of no return. 

“I don’t know,” Javier answered honestly. “Do you want to stop?” he asked as he nuzzled his nose against Horacio’s and allowed the fingers still resting at the back of his neck to run further up into his hair.

“No. Please don’t.” 

Javier gingerly pressed his lips to Horacio’s, unsure how to navigate these uncharted waters and not wanting to be too rough with him given his current state.

Horacio moved his mouth cautiously against Javier’s at first, allowing himself to become accustomed to the unfamiliar scratch of Javier’s moustache as it brushed over his skin. A low groan rumbling deep in his chest told him he was enjoying it, so much so he soon grew impatient and responded more firmly and deeply, taking control of the kiss and catching Javier off guard. He’d waited too long for this and he couldn’t wait any longer, injured or not. 

Javier matched his pace, as their mouths hungrily crashed together and their tongues explored and probed. Licking, tasting and grunting as their teeth made harsh contact with each other’s bottom lip.

Their bodies became a tangled, heated mess of limbs as they fell down on the cot; initially facing each other, but it wasn’t long before Horacio used his upper body strength to roll on top of Javier, with his arms pinned either side of his head. They paused for a moment, breathing hard and fixing each other with a dark, hungry gaze. 

“What about your head?” Javier couldn’t help but check in, even in such a compromising position. 

“I think I’m feeling better,” Horacio murmured as he dipped down to meet Javier’s exposed throat and swiped his flattened tongue along the length of it. The sudden quivering sensation from underneath him only spurred Horacio on to begin roughly mouthing his way up and down the expanse of Javier’s neck, ensuring he sunk his teeth into the skin deep enough for bruises to bloom.

Javier gasped and leaned into it, his hands sliding across the solid wall of Horacio’s back and pulling at the fabric of his t-shirt wherever he could gain purchase.

Horacio took the hint and momentarily sat up to pull it over his head, before reaching down to tug at the hem of Javier’s shirt. He was thankful that they’d already shed most of their layers when they had settled down on their respective cots, only t-shirts and underwear remaining at this point. 

Javier followed his lead and propped himself up to remove his shirt. He attempted to resume kissing Horacio, but Horacio had other ideas and firmly placed the palm of his hand on Javier’s chest, pushing him back down against the cot.

He eyed Javier for a moment, his focus drifting from the way his abdomen spasmed as he panted beneath him; to the way his Adam’s Apple prominently bobbed as he swallowed loudly in anticipation. All the while, only one word ran through his head. _Mine._

Horacio leaned forwards and planted his hands back on the pillow on either side of Javier, before he captured his mouth in another searing kiss. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, pressing their groins together and grinding down. Slow, yet deep and emphatic thrusts, ensuring Javier felt every movement through the thin fabric of their underwear. 

Javier let out a broken moan, trying but failing to keep the volume low as Horacio immediately brought his finger to Javier’s lips and hushed against his ear, his hot breath fanning over his skin and instantly raising goosebumps. He dragged the pad of his index finger across Javier’s bottom lip before pushing it into his mouth.

Javier willingly took it between his lips, hollowing his cheeks as he eagerly sucked, before swirling his tongue around it and licking his way up and down.

Horacio hissed through gritted teeth, before withdrawing his finger again. He needed more.

He reached for the waistband of Javier’s underwear and unceremoniously yanked them down his narrow hips, roughly dragging the material over his legs and off, before discarding them somewhere in the darkness below. He sat up and speedily wriggled out of his own, before resuming his position over Javier. 

Horacio wasted no time in grinding himself against Javier; this time their cocks slickly gliding directly over each other and their kisses now little more than shallow gasps into the other’s mouth.

Javier’s hands roamed the breadth of Horacio’s shoulders, scraping his fingernails down the contours of his upper back muscles and wrapping his legs around his waist, unable to stop his hips from lifting off the cot to fuck himself harder against the weight above him. 

Horacio groaned at the increased pressure and retaliated by grabbing Javier’s hands and pinning them above his head with one of his own; his grip firm and steady, whilst his other slid down between their trembling bodies.

He held their cocks in his palm for a moment, allowing them to throb and twitch against each other and sending shockwaves through both of them in turn; each man’s stuttered hip movements and strangled moans spurring the other on. 

Horacio began sliding his hand up and down both of their lengths simultaneously, encasing them in his fist as he jerked them off together. He set a brutal pace from the start; the wet, slapping sound of skin meeting skin joining the crescendo of muffled grunts and sighs that were already filling the room. 

He couldn’t resist thrusting his hips downwards into his own fist as Javier rapidly bucked upwards to meet him, causing their cocks to rut deliciously against each other, as well as Horacio’s hand.

Their rhythm soon became sloppy and uncoordinated, sweat now glistening on their clammy skin as they drove each other towards the inevitable. 

Javier folded first, his hips jerking and thighs clamping tighter around Horacio as he forcefully spurted over himself and into Horacio’s hand. His mouth fell open in a silent cry as he climaxed, his fingers clasping at those still holding him in place, desperately trying to ground himself as intense pleasure flooded his senses. 

Horacio continued pumping with his hand and using Javier’s release to aid the motion, coating his length from tip to base as he felt himself on the precipice. 

With a few more vigorous strokes, his thrusting ceased and his body tensed as he came all over them both, his own seed mixing with Javier’s. His vision blurred and his grip on Javier’s hands tightened as he fell forwards, their fingers locking together as he bit down on the other man’s shoulder to stifle the ragged growl that slipped from his throat. 

Horacio finally released Javier’s hands as he flopped his head down on to the welcoming warmth below, a wave of exhaustion suddenly crashing over him.

Before he realised what he was doing, Javier slid one of his newly freed hands up into the dark, sweaty strands of Horacio’s hair now resting on his chest and carded his fingers through them, as they wordlessly recovered and let the events of the night sink in.

Eventually, Horacio rolled over and Javier reached for a fresh cigarette, which the two men passed back and forth in between languid kisses and light, tender strokes along each other’s spent limbs; a stark contrast to the frenzied explosion they were still recuperating from.

Once they’d finished their smoke, they reluctantly moved off the cot to clean themselves up. After Javier exited the bathroom, he paused in the middle of the two cots, looking from one to the other as if he was being presented with an incomprehensible equation to solve.

“You not joining me, then? I won’t bite...although you seemed to enjoy it when I did,” Horacio teased, his demeanour more relaxed now as he basked in his afterglow.

“You’re pushing your luck, y’know that?” Javier retorted. He made a half-hearted attempt at a scowl, before resuming his place on Horacio’s cot and trying not to let him see the beginnings of a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth.

This time, he allowed himself to be spooned, their bodies pressed up tightly and their legs tangled together as Horacio’s arms slotted around Javier’s waist. This specific situation wasn’t something Javier had much experience of, but part of him wondered if he could get used to it. If he could get used to all of this. Now there was a dangerous thought he never normally allowed himself to indulge.

They lay in a drowsy haze, their fingers entwined over Javier’s stomach as they drifted closer towards sleep; making the most of the last remnants of the darkness that surrounded them, neither keen for the harsh reality of daylight to come too soon.

* * *

Javier woke up alone, squinting as his eyes gradually adjusted to the early morning rays now streaming through the window shutters. He heard movement in the bathroom and the door opened several minutes later to reveal Horacio dressed in his full uniform; his business face firmly back on, even if it was carrying the scars from the previous day’s events. He looked tired and as though he should still be taking it easy, but Javier of all people knew there was no point telling him that.

“Morning,” Javier offered instead, his throat still dry and groggy from sleep.

“Morning. Sorry to rush off, but duty calls. I’ve got to lead a debriefing in half an hour before we head back to Medellín. See you then?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course, I’ll join you shortly,” Javier replied, trying to remain as neutral as possible and pushing down something that felt like pangs of disappointment that he wasn’t entirely prepared for. Of course, he understood, though. They were here to work, after all. “You feeling any better?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Horacio confirmed, before pausing briefly. “Good, actually,” he added quietly as he made the decision to crouch down next to his cot, his hand coming up to lightly cup Javier’s face.

He ran his thumb along the trail of patchy stubble at his jawline, causing Javier’s eyes to flutter shut at the contact.

Javier’s fingers instinctively curled around Horacio’s wrist, as he nuzzled his cheek against Horacio’s hand before dragging his lips across his knuckles.

Horacio’s breath caught in his throat, as the sensation of soft lips on his fingers again quickly fused together with vivid memories from the night before.

“Fuck, I _really_ have to go,” Horacio half-whispered and half-groaned, as he grudgingly pulled away and stood back up again. “See you soon.”

And with that, Horacio exited their room, leaving Javier to his own thoughts and a growing pool of arousal in his groin that he absolutely didn’t have time to deal with right now. He sighed and reached for a cigarette instead.

* * *

Once Javier was up and dressed, he joined the rest of the Search Bloc for Horacio’s debriefing, not that he could focus on much of it. Instead, he found his gaze involuntarily roaming up and down Carrillo’s form. A mere flex of his bicep triggering a flashback to being pinned to the cot with those very same muscles. His jeans tightened embarrassingly fast as it registered just how much he _liked_ being held down like that. How he was willing to submit to him. How he’d let him do things to him he’d never let anyone else do. How, that now he thought about it, the authoritative tone of his voice stirred something deep inside him that he wasn’t even aware had been resting dormant in his psyche until now. _Fuck._ He was even more screwed than he’d realised.

He briefly closed his eyes, willing away the thoughts now threatening to run wild. It was so very wrong to be thinking about all of this now, given the reason they were all gathered here in the first place. A cloud of shame descended over him, as he tuned back in to what Horacio was saying. He wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence, or if he’d been thinking too loudly, but the moment he regained focus, he accidentally caught Horacio’s eye.

A dark glint momentarily flashed across Horacio’s pupils, almost as though he knew what Javier had been thinking about, because of course he’d been thinking about it too.

Javier gulped a little too loudly and swiftly bowed his head, suddenly becoming fixated on his own arms folded across his chest. He didn’t look up again until the debriefing was over and Carrillo’s men had begun preparing their transport back to Medellín.

Some members of the Search Bloc had drawn the short straw and were driving back, but Javier and Horacio found themselves in the same helicopter Javier had flown in the previous day. The noise of the chopper made conversation impossible, which suited them both fine in the circumstances. However, the lack of personal space causing their legs to bump against each other, particularly on take-off, did nothing to help their predicament. The friction combined with the vibrations from the engine and their own mental slideshows from the night before was testing their composure to the absolute limit.

Javier could feel his fingers tightly gripping the edge of his seat as he hid behind his aviators, whilst Horacio’s other leg had begun to bounce restlessly as he clenched his fists at his side, his eyes glued firmly on the view out of the window.

After what felt like the longest flight in history, they finally touched down back at base, much to both men’s relief. Although, for now there was no time to dwell further on it, as Horacio was swept along with his men and retreated back to his office to update his superiors on their successful mission. Meanwhile, Javier was due to fly back to Bogotá to catch up with Steve and report to the Ambassador.

Despite their best efforts, they both struggled to concentrate for the rest of their working days. If it wasn’t the memory of how they tasted on each other’s lips and tongues, it was how the other’s scent had lingered on their skin hours later; or how exquisite the sensation of rutting together had been as they made each other fall apart. Not to mention the way they’d held on to each other until dawn with a soothing tenderness that felt increasingly like an imagined dreamscape when contrasted with the jarring reality of their day-to-day lives.

For all of their apparent intentions of keeping whatever they’d started hidden in the dark, the light of day seemingly had other ideas and it was surely only a matter of time before they converged.


End file.
